The Billion-Value Lands Are Just For Farming - Chapter 572

This was the great era of vast warships and the Star River, a time when the multi-universe was shattered and countless Cosmic Fragments were scattered across the void, forming the boundless Shattered Starry Sea.Immortal Domain Dao soldiers, mechanical gods, golden giants, wizard Dominators…An endless array of strange civilizations.Starry Sea Oddity, Genetic Potions, exoskeletal armors, Floating Land Origin…Treasures that could be found everywhere.Spectral Shuttle, Spectral Airship, Spectral Warship, Escort Ships, Battleships, Star-Annihilating Starships, hyperdimensional mother ships…The clearly stratified Xinhuo warships.Song Chi held a Zhu Tian Ruins Market in his hand and engaged in interstellar trade with the countless peoples of the Starry Sea.What? Titanium Crystals are worthless in your Star Domain? I’ll take them all, damn it, this is a strategic resource!You call this a chunk of iron? This is Mixed Elemental Copper, the ultimate Enhancement resource!Ordinary ship cannon? Isn’t this a golden Star-Annihilating Cannon? Quick… I’ll buy it!…Stretching across the stars, starting from the flame of human civilization.

The world is up for sale, and Robin is making an offer.When Robin Waybright became the Merchant Hero, all of Pangeal turned into his marketplace; for the Merchant can buy and sell anything. Youth, skills, memories, hair color, joys and illnesses… in the trade of power, every deal can tip the scale.And Robin needs power. His homeland of Archfrost teeters on the brink of collapse, the sinister Demon Ancestors plot in the shadows, and twenty-one other Heroes, each with their own Class, have been chosen to save the world of Pangeal. Not all of them are friendly. There’s work to do… and profit to make.Cover by Dinovoila and Gharbi Zouhayer.

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.

Mr. Tycoon Is Actually the Father of My Child!